Tomorrow, Caroline and I leave for a trip to the Great Plains. This will be the first time in 8 years that we’ve been out there and nearly 20 years since the two of us were as far north as we hope to get this long weekend. Our destination is supposed to be somewhere in North Dakota. I have to say “I hope to get there” because I finally checked the weather forecast, and wouldn’t you know it, it’s calling for wind, rain, and thunderstorms. It’s almost comical because it was on our last big road trip back in 2015 nearly to the day when we detoured from our itinerary due to flooding as we passed between Texas and Oklahoma. Certainly, a more favorable outcome is on the horizon this time around. The traces on this portion of our U.S. map are roads we’ve driven, the empty area is a mystery.

Should anyone wonder, where exactly out on those wind-swept plains are you two going? It doesn’t matter as all that’s important is we are going to where the rest of America is not going over Memorial Day. This journey will be a meander and has the flexibility to change course should we need to or simply want to. To those we told we’d be in Europe at this time: that was delayed while we wait for the economy to fall into an actual recession so the cost of travel can come down. We could have chosen the Oregon Coast for this getaway but flights and the crappiest of motels would have been more expensive than spending time in Germany. Driving to Oregon wasn’t an option, not due to the price of gas but the fact that we need 4 days of driving for the roundtrip, and that would then only offer us 2 days on the coast, and that’s no bueno.

There are aspects of this drive that have different meanings such as the fact that I simply enjoy the drive where my eyes fall upon different scenery and just might inspire something or other. For days, Caroline and I will be next to one another nearly 24 hours a day and will likely enjoy every minute of it. There’s also our trophy map of the United States on which we track the roads we’ve driven. The path we’re taking will take previously untraveled roads as much as possible. This feat will allow us to add two fat lines going out and coming back. And then there are the unknowns where little delights and unexpected surprises will help make the entire experience memorable. Even if it were truly boring, rest assured that I’ll get at least a few photos that show otherwise and I’ll write a simple narrative that will demonstrate that love and beauty greeted us at every turn, that is if there are any turns on this bolt north.

Wind, rain, thunder, and lightning were the overnight elements that let us know with some certainty that a monsoon has passed over us. Signs of it were on display here and there this morning, but the majority of it occurred while we were fast asleep. A great side effect of the storm is that it’s noticeably cooler out here, the cloud cover also helps.

In other news, it appears we might drag ourselves to North Dakota or thereabouts in the near future but things are fluid as we’re not making fixed plans.

If the douchebags driving ridiculously loud motorcycles and cars that put out between 110 and 120 decibels of annoyance (about the same sound level as a jet taking off or gunshots) weren’t enough, we have to contend with these angry douchebags who use their vehicles to announce that they are likely half-crazy whackjobs. What kind of anger is behind the wheel of this truck telling me to “Fuck my hybrid” or somehow virtue signaling me that his ‘Mericun truck was built with wrenches, not chopsticks? The boob message to the left hints at a tendency to accept his incel situation while on the far right he’s threatening all that approach him or give him any side-eye that he’s willing to pull a gun on the transgressor.

As we passed him with my man-boobs heaving and our hybrid flipping him a middle chopstick, I tried to spy what size his impressive tool might be, but his blacked-out windows prevented me from witnessing firsthand him beating off to how powerful, strong, and hard his angry bro-ness has grown to be. I trembled next to this prime example of manhood, I mean douchebaggery.

Following whatever rain we pick up over the winter, our next bit of moisture typically doesn’t show up until the summer monsoons kick in somewhere in July. So, what’s this stuff passing over the valley some miles south of us? Some of it looks like virga, but experience says that to the left of the clouds, rain is hitting the ground. These weren’t the only heavy clouds in the Phoenix sky this morning, but how can the monsoon season be starting up so early, we wondered? Also of note, we hit our first 100-degree (38c) day on April 30th this year. Fortunately, we’ve not seen 50c yet and hopefully won’t as that’s truly hot. For those in the United States oblivious to how the rest of humanity measures stuff in the metric system, that would be a scorching 122 degrees of blistering discomfort.